Major Congeniality
by Moonrays and fridays
Summary: There's a big Ego fest, called a beauty pageant, apparently a goa'uld wants in...Carter, we're in need of a leggy blond who can handle an M16, up for it?
1. Chapter 1

Major Congeniality.

**AN**: Okay, so this is the Product of a week in bed with a chest infection, hyped up on antibiotics and with no coffee, with nothing but my Stargate dvd's and My old videos (you remember videos...those old fashioned things...!)Miss Congeniality being one of them.

I realise Amanda Tapping is too pretty for this to work exactly the same, but give it a chance!

As always f/b is appreciated. Im _not _begging, just whining a _tiny_ bit in a relatively cute fashion...:D

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She was at it again. It didn't irritate him as much as it used to. Infact, he quite liked her freakishly superior intellect when it saved their collective asses, and occasionally, you know, the _entire planet_.

But one day she was going to work herself into the ground. He wasn't quite sure what Hammond's emergency briefing was about, but the intelligence came from the FBI, which suggested this mission was going to be a doozy.

He had a sneaky suspicion Carter was_really_ going to regret working late tonight.

"Carter, I'm sure that, seeing as I gave you an order to go home tonight, and you're a good little Major who doesn't disregard a CO's good intentions, you were_actually_ planning on going home tonight? Right?"

"Yes Sir." She blushed, having the good graces to look embarassed at least.

"I meant to Sir, I was just finishing this last simulation, and then the outcome from that meant I had to do this one..." She sighed, and for a moment he believed she didn't actually want to be there, but she was just dedicated.

And then he realised she was sighing because he'd just snapped a very delicate piece of plastic in his fingers.

"Important slide Carter?"

"Only the one with the possible answer to our existence Sir." She said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows. "That was close to humorous Major. I'd be careful." He smiled.

"Anyway, Danny didn't leave either. But he responded to my caring sentiment by saying "Piss off you halfwit" in Goa'uld." Jack shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow.

"What? Teal'c taught me some useful phrases!"

"I'm sure that's going to come in handy some day Sir, really." She grinned.

"So are you going home now?" She gave up on her experiment-her CO was a far more fascinating enigma.

"Nope, that's why I came to find you. Hammond's called an emergency meeting. Apparently the FBI have a heads up on some Goa'uld activity."

"We're not going to have to coordinate with a head-up-his-ass liason are we?" She sighed.

"No, but I'm glad you share my sentiment. Will you come with me to get Danny? I'm kinda worried he wasn't joking when he said he would throw something ancient and heavy at me next time I disturbed him." He pretended to look scared.

"Sure." She packed up her experiments and turned off the lights as they left the lab.

"So any idea what it's about?" She asked him, wondering why he was grinning inanely as they reached Daniel's Lab.

"What?"

"What the intelligence is about?" She asked curiously. "What are you grinning at?"

He put a finger to his lips and "Shushed" her, still grinning.

"Look!" He whispered, pointing at Daniel, who was asleep, his head on his papryus and documents and photographs. With each exhale, the feathers on the Maat headdress moved away, and everytime they he inhaled, they moved closer, and he sneezed. It was like clockwork.

Jack gave Sam a mischevious grin, and tiptoed up to where Daniel was sleeping, leaning in close and bellowed in his ear.

"DANIEL!"

Daniel Jackson, though appearing like a man who would be slow to anger, was actually capable of being quite pissed off at times, and this was one of those times.

"Jack! What the hell?"

"Well, you were drooling on an ancient Mayan rock, and I thought you'd be upset if it decomposed further." He said smugly, nudging Carter with his elbow, and yet somehow moving behind her in an effort to protect himself from Daniel's wrath.

"Hammond wants to see us. Important Briefing." Sam informed him, before smiling and singing enticingly "There'll be coffee..."

Daniel rubbed his face vigorously, and nodded walking out of his office, and pushing Jack a little harder than necessary. They continued to bicker all the way to the briefing room, all the while further convincing Sam that she was "The Girl".

And for once, if it meant she didn't have to squabble with her team mates, she realised she was fine with it.

Which, she reflected later on, was bitterly ironic.

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"Nice of you to join us." Hammond said snippily as the three of them entered.

Noticing Teal'c already settled in his seat with a mug of coffee, Daniel bounded over, and whilst drinking three cups in about sixty seconds, proceeded to tell Teal'c all about the_fascinating_ culture of p3x bla bla bla.

"Sir, with all due respect, it is 3.30 am. If any of us had lives and were at home, it would have taken longer." Jack stared pointedly at Carter.

"Lives are overrated." She said simply.

"Glad you think so Major, because the FBI have decided SG1 be the team to carry out this mission." Hammond started.

"Approximately forty minutes ago I got a message from an Intelligence agent, who has been granted knowledge of the program, that there is a Goa'uld on Earth."

"Again." Jack prompted.

"Apparently so. They used a naquadah sensor, so they know the Goa'uld is in the vicinity, but they have no idea who it's in, why it's there or what it's planning to do." Hammond said, sounding suddenly like he didn't like the plan he was about to present.

"Where is it?"

"San Antonio, Texas."

"Home of the Alamo." Jack supplied.

"Anyway, the FBI, having no appropriate officer for this undercover mission asked that we take over. A small task force, backing up one undercover officer."

Jack opened his mouth, but Hammond wasn't sure whether it was to protest, ask more questions or volunteer. Damn, the man could be asking for permission to use the can, he didn't care. He had to tell them.

"The undercover agent will be Major Carter." He said quickly, but with attempted authority.

He loved Sam Carter, really he did. She was the smartest person he knew, she was a brilliant officer, and he'd loved her as a little girl when her mother and his wife had organised the barbeques in the summer years ago. But he knew she was going to hate this.

"Sir, no disrespect to Carter here," He paused, checking with her as she nodded in agreement, "But I've got Black Ops training. I could do this."

"Actually Colonel, I doubt even you could pull this off." He unfolded a brochure which he place in a folder and passed over.

"And Major Carter was also Black Ops for a while, before joining the Pentagon and making this program a reality." Better to butter her up first, before she blew up. He thought cringingly.

He remembered when Jake used to blow up at him. That man had a temper, and from what he remembered of Samantha's childhood, and her teen years, it was genetic.

Jack's eyes widened as he looked at the document Hammond had passed him, he looked at Carter, then looked away, then looked back again in fear.

"Sir? You okay?" She asked sweetly, concerned.

Oh, she was so going to hurt someone when she found out. Oh dear god, he was going to be roasting over a fire.

"Carter, I want you to know I am just as shocked, and kind of appalled too, that this is why they chose you..."

"What?" Carter tried to look over at what he was reading, but he covered it quickly.

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate Colonel." Hammond started, with very little passion.

"Major Carter was chosen because she can sense the Goa'uld, usually, and she also has a background in Black Ops, and**_yes_ **because, this task happens to need a woman."

Jack shook his head as he threw the leaflet on the table in resignation.

"I am_**not**_ so pleased to introduce Miss Samantha FreeHart, this years Miss Colorado, and our entrance to the Miss United States Beauty Pageant."

Oh crap, she was going to kill him...then again, if he got to see her in a swimming costume before he died, it_**may** _be worth it.

She was glaring at him. Jack swallowed loudly.

Maybe not.

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Usually, Sam Carter was a very normal person. Sure, she did amazing things for a living. But she was level headed, kept her temper even when she wanted to scream, and did what her superiors asked.

When her superiors shipped her off to the Pentagon without telling her why, even though it was two am, she got up, packed and went. When they told her to wait patiently, that she couldn't organise a rescue mission, that it would always be Jack O'Neill risking his life for everyone, she did what she was told.

And if she tried REALLY hard, she could do it all with a cup of coffee in one hand, a P90 in her other, and a smile on her face.

But she was NOT doing this.

And now she was sulking.

Something Jack would have found quite appealing and unCarterlike, if he wasn't somehow being blamed for this fiasco. Probably because he'd been asked to lead the Op, but that was all Hammond, not him! Hammond, the old goat. He knew she would get pissed, and thought he'd get Jack in trouble.

"Come on." Jack said firmly, taking his life in his hands, or rather, grabbing Carter's hand, taking her away from her Lab, and dragging her all the way to the Gym.

He passed her the gloves and pointed to the punchbag. She nodded, taking off her jacket. And proceeded to kick the crap out of the thing.

Jack held the bag still for her.

"Ya know, it wasn't my idea Carter."

A low kick.

"Mn hmm." Was the only reply.

"Because I would never single you out in this way."

Right Hook.

"Yep."

"In fact, I think it's awful."

Left Knee, high kick, left hook, forward punch.

"Degrading..."

Kick. Kick. Kick.

"Unfair."

Punch. Punch. Punch.

"Downright wrong."

High kick...with a little too much force.

"Damnit Carter!" Jack rubbed his temple.

"Sorry Sir." She threw off the gloves and sank down on the mat. "I know you had nothing to do with this."

She took a swig of the water bottle he passed her as he sat down beside her.

"I've spent my whole life working against girls like that, you know? I mean..." She shook her head.

"You were a jock in high school right? Hockey?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Didn't really concentrate in Class, Very popular? Dated a whole host of cheerleading bimbos with the IQ of your average garden toad?" She smiled tiredly.

"Um, yes to the first two, but for the most partI dated my ex-wife throughout high school. Before that, I was more of a geek salivating over said bimbo cheerleaders." He shrugged. "What's this about?"

"I was a geek. WhichI guess is fairly evident. I mean, I was an army brat obviously, but before being shipped off to military school,I was the quiet geeky girl who got tortured by the future Miss America's who would give anything for World Peace, and yet couldn't spare any for me."

"Wow. Sorry."

She shrugged. smiling. "I wasn't too bothered, I'd rather check out rates of reaction in the labs than hang out with the Anorexia fan club, but it used to piss me off. Just, people's attitude ya know? These girls think they can have everything because they're pretty. And half the time they do! It's amazing really!" She vented, clenching her teeth.

"And then, you have people like McKay-"

"Asshole McKay?"

"Yeah...called me a blond bimbo...but I'm getting off track. The point is, they are everything that is the polar opposite of me. Send me to a Goa'uld infested planet with nothing but an M16 and three grenades-I'd prefer it!"

"I don't think I've ever heard you so against a mission before. You actually don't want to do this." Jack said, almost to himself.

"I can't do it." She said simply, shaking her head. "I don't know how to be one of them! I can't do it." She rested her head on her knees.

Jack placed a hand on her back comfortingly.

"Hey, look at me."

She turned so he could see her eyes, still shadowed by her arms.

"There is something I found out a while ago, and I thought you knew it, being the big bad brain that you are-" She snorted in laughter.

"But apparently you don't, so I better tell you. There is NOTHING you can't do. I have seen you do things I didn't even know were possible. You screw my head up so bad I wonder if i didn't just imagine you or something sometimes, ya know? If you can blow up a sun, you can win a beauty pageant." He shrugged, nodding as she started to smile.

"No one said anything about winning." She smiled.

"Well, personally, I think you could, but I'm slightly biased, being your most adoring fan and all that." He wiggled his eyebrows. "So, you feeling a bit better?"

She smiled at him, the special, hundred watt smile he liked to think she saved for him.

"You know, as much as you hate to be sentimental, you're pretty good at the pep talks."

"I know, it's a gift!" He stood up and offered her a hand, "Want to go to the mess for that awful blue Jello you seem to love so much?"

"Sure."

She took his hand and stood up, and as they went to separate, he held her hand for a fraction of a second longer.

"Carter, you can have everything too. You just get it in spite of your beauty, instead of because of it. And, it's just me here, but isn't that preferable?" Jack said quietly.

"I think it is." She nodded as he released her hand and they started down the corridor to the Mess.

"So when do we leave?" She asked, not dreading the answer as much.

"About four hours. We're flying the Private Jet, courtesy of Hammond Airlines. We've got to pick up a passenger first. A fruit and nutcake Brit called Vic Melling, or something."

"Who's he?"

"Your stylist, manager and general beautification coach."

"Oh good, because I was worried this was going to be awkward time, full of people judging my appearance and trying to change me. Glad I was wrong."

"Sarcasm as a defence mechanism? Wow, I'm so proud."

"Well, It feels pretty damn good." She answered wryly as they entered the Mess. She was going to fill up on as much Jello as she could possibly manage.

She had the sneaking suspicion that a "general beautification Coach" wouldn't let her eat anything blue and wobbly for a while.

And whilst she was at it, she'd stash some chocolate bars down her bra too.

_**TBC (if ya guys like? Si or No?)**_


	2. The British are coming!

_AN: With many thanks to my brand spanking new beta Ayiana2!_

_Just to point out, apparently I made a big mistake assuming women could enter the special forces. Did not know they couldn't and am sorry. I will fix that in the next chapter._

_Im sorry it took so long to get this posted. IfI could spend all my days writing if Icould. Sadly theres a lil thing called A levels which stops this._

_Thanks to all who reviewed/are reviewing/will review._

_Andi_

Chapter 3: The British are Coming!

Oh Man, was Sam Carter pissed. She was in a whole new world of furious. In fact, she'd bypassed furious and gone straight to a "Please tell me I just entered the Twilight Zone, or ate some of that wacky stuff on that moon that makes me hallucinate" place, where she said nothing and stood quietly in shock.

Vic Melling reminded her of her father. If her father had been British, upper class and camp as a row of tents. Her father didn't wear designer shoes. He couldn't tell his Gucci from his Chanel, and he sure as hell would not publicly humiliate her.  
Hence the quite obvious fact that Victor Melling was not her father.

But he did have that patronising, critical manner that made her want to take a P90 and jam it somewhere uncomfortable. She had rage issues.

The first meeting had been more than awkward; it was so awful that it made her want to squirm just thinking about it. And having Jack there for moral support "and/or to kick his ass" made it even worse.

"Mr. Melling." She nodded, smiling as he entered the private plane, standing next to the Colonel.

"I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, I'll be leading this operation. This is the leading lady herself, Major Samantha Carter." O'Neill was at his most charming, and gestured towards Sam with pride, at which she blushed slightly. He winked at her, and nodded his head towards the older man, whose eyes had narrowed as he critically analysed her.

His eyes went slowly down and then travelled back up. Strangely it wasn't lecherous. It felt more like some sort of alien scanning device, and she half expected him to inform her that she'd somehow grown two heads, or lost half a brain. He said nothing, but snorted derisively. She decided to try again.

"Nice to meet-" She headed towards him, but he cut her off.

"Turn around." He gestured. "Slowly. " He added as she did as she was told. Sam caught Jack's eye. He had just switched from Colonel Charming to Colonel "I want to hurt this guy-where's my gun?"

"Well, I've had worse." Vic relented. "Complexion isn't bad, eyes are lovely." Sam raised an eyebrow wearily. Beware men who talk about "eyes the colour of blue river stones". When that happened, she tended to get kidnapped and traded with.

"Hair is atrocious. Body may be a problem-got many scars?" Sam's smile faded as she took a mental inventory.

"18" Jack supplied after an awkward pause. "That I've witnessed, I mean."

"Well, _your _hair, however, is perfect." Vic nodded at Jack, who grinned, saving that comment to tell Danny.

"We're going to have to do some work then." Vic settled himself elegantly into a chair as the pilot announced they were going to take off. Sam just looked at him.

"Well Samantha, tell me about yourself." Vic started, almost warmly. "Colonel, you don't by any chance have a Cabernet Sauvignon onboard do you? I had quite a hurried arrival, and flying doesn't do much for my complexion."

"And wine is going to fix that?" Jack asked, bemused.

"No, but it'll calm me down." Vic said slowly. Jack shrugged and went to check.

"Samantha?"

"Major Sam Carter, PhD, astrophysicist for NORAD." She said on the edge of civility.

"Hmm. What are your interests?"

"Interests..." She said thoughtfully, editing out all about her life that was classified, as Jack entered carrying a tray.

"Yes, Carter... Those many, many things that you do when you're not working." he set down the tray. "It's a choice between Champagne and Whisky."

"Well, Whisky at before lunch would not be classy. Although, considering **_this _**champagne, we might have to take the chance." Vic sighed.

"So which is it?" Jack almost growled.

"Champagne." He was promptly handed a glass, and Jack sat down next to Carter.

"Samantha...your interests..." Vic prompted.

"It's Sam." Jack answered.

"Oh, I don't think so!" Melling laughed derisively. "A girl with a boy's name will never win a beauty pageant." He turned to Sam. "You really think a man will get just as much satisfaction from calling out a boy's name instead of a girl's?"

"Do I want to ask why I would need anyone to be calling out my name?" Sam sighed.

"Samantha, please understand. Not only do we need to teach you how to be a woman, but you're going undercover, so think of this as another persona."

She shrugged, and nodded in resignation. "Sit up straight." He barked. "So what are you interested in?"

"Motorbikes, Hockey, my vintage car, spending time with my family, and saving the world on a regular basis." Her mouth twitched a little in a small smile.

"I am somewhat less than amused." He rolled his eyes. "Motorcycles, cars...**_organised sports_**?" He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Let's try something salvageable. Your family? You're married I take it?"

"Well apparently I've got an atrocious hair style and a problematic body - who on earth would marry me?" She smiled pointedly.

"There's a couple Offworld who've tried." Jack whispered. She giggled. - Something that was not missed by Vic.

"Why must you take everything so PERSONALLY? I am trying to transform you into a butterfly." He whined with the air of a martyr.

"So when you said family you meant..." he prompted.

"My brother, niece and nephew, my father, and my team."

"Your team consists of whom exactly?"

"Colonel O'Neill, Daniel and Murray." She replied, gesturing towards Jack, who smiled inwardly. Sure, they all knew they considered each other family, but it was nice to be counted. Although the idea of being seen as a brother by her was somewhat disgusting.

"Three men? You're a military woman, who is intimidatingly intelligent, and spends all her time with three men? I just CANNOT understand why you are still single!" he said sarcastically. Jack took a deep breath. Sam briefly put an arm on his hand.

"Were you trying to make a point, Mr Melling?" She asked through her fake smile, a sure-fire way of telling how much she hated him.

"Yes, love. It is this precisely: Your name is Samantha Freeheart, you enjoy luxurious bubble baths, Chinese food and work for an underachievers program to help kids with their math homework. You hope to become a paediatrician, and what you want more than anything else is World Peace. Comprende?" He sipped at his champagne triumphantly.

Sam groaned whilst Jack looked at her in sympathy. She rubbed at her eyes and pleaded silently with her CO. He responded with a "Sorry but I've got orders" eyebrow raise and head nod combo. She nodded and shrugged.

"What now?" She asked, attempting to remain calm and polite, but sounding more like Cassie on a bad day.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to get some beauty sleep before we start your transformation. I suggest you do the same, love. Lack of sleep is never a pretty thing."

With that he swept past them to the back of the plane, where he reclined fully on the chair, and pulled out a pink silk eye mask. Jack and Sam blinked in surprise.

"Sir?" She pleaded.

"I'm so sorry Carter." He attempted to smile reassuringly. "It'll be fine. We'll land, and Danny can bug him and T can scare him."

"Sir, We're friends right? I've been a good 2IC for the most part?" "Of course, the best. Why?"

"I need you to do me a favour." She whispered, moving her head closer to his.

"Name it." He whispered back.

"I need you to protect something. I have a feeling, an intuition you know? Vic is going to take it. It's very important. You need to promise you'll guard it with your life."

"Promise." he nodded solemnly as she started rummaging around in her bag, looking up cautiously to check Vic didn't detect the rustle. Jack watched, bemused. He half expected her to pull something crazy out her bag, like a baby, or a naquadah reactor. Instead she pulled out a large brown bag, and passed it over. He felt its weight in his hand, making his arm ache. He unrolled the top and opened it. Looking in he smiled. Grinned. He wanted to laugh so hard that he would roll on the floor. But he wouldn't. Because it was Carter, and, well...He loved Carter. So he could let this go. But he would remember it. Because in that bag was Sam's only chance of sanity. About half a kilos worth of chocolate bars. He would protect it for her. He stuffed it into his bag, nodding seriously at her. She smiled and settled down to sleep, trusting her CO implicitly with matters that were so important that they included chocolate. Jack, for some strange reason, was glad that she'd trusted him with this.- T that she trusted him to understand her neuroses.

And if he happened to get peckish later...Well, he could always blame the Strange British Fairy.

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_AN2: this is the part where i beg for reviews. _

_Oh, and about the "fairy" jibe and the "camp as a row of tents" thing. Do NOT send me emails saying how I am against gay people or something. __Firstly because its moronic, secondly because 50 of my friends are gay, and thirdly because if i was describing a very straight person, i may have said "straight asa flag pole" or something. So dont waste your time replying unless its something I can fix or gloat about! Thank you for your time. Here endeth the rant._


	3. Not so Congenial

Major Congeniality Chapter 3- Not so congenial.

Sam Carter had dealt with a lot worse. She'd been tortured, tainted, trampled on and died a few times too. Sam Carter was invincible, or at least that's what Jack O'Neill liked to think, but there was just one problem.

She could**_not_** handle this.

Infact, she was wishing so severely with all of her heart that the floor would open beneath her and send her back to the fiery pits of Netu.

And that was just the leg wax.

Oh yes, Carter could handle Big Bad Guys, ones with personal shields and big honkin' space guns. What she could**_not_** handle, however, was Big Bad Guys with hair extensions, cuticle clippers, or hot wax.

Which is why she had believed, sprawled on an uncomfortable bed, facemask flaming her skin and fingers currently painted a baby pink that she's sure she bought Cassie once when she was eleven, that it couldn't get any worse.

And then she heard it.

"Hey Carter? Hows it goin'?"

Yes, because what she wanted more than anything in the world was for her CO, one of her best friends, and possibly the person she maybe, might do, almost could, always in some alternate universe actually does, love, to see her at her worst. And it couldn't get much worse than this.

"SR, DNNN CMMNN NN!" She wailed loudly, forgetting the green goop on her face, and how it restricted her.

"Carter? What's wrong? Why can't I come in?" He sounded concerned. And at any other time, that**_may_** have given Sam the warm and fuzzies, but right now she was just glad he had understood.

_Why can't you come in?_ She thought wryly, _Well, I happen to be spread eagled on a table with cucumber juice running into my eyes, and if you were going to see me this naked I'd really rather it wasn't under these cicumstances._

"What?" She heard Jack call over the partition, not unlike the ones used in the infirmary. Oh, what wouldn't she give to be in the infirmary right now? "All I got from that was "mumble mumble, mum-mumble" What's going on?"

Vic Melling breezed over; Sam's personal beautifier, or destructive pain in the ass, as Jack considered him, moving from Sam's side to talk to Jack.

"She says she'd rather you not come in, as she's spread eagled on a table with cucumber juice running into her eyes and if you were going to see her that naked she'd rather-"

Sam kicked him, rather hard, eyes wide in panic, fear, anger. Melling shut his mouth, wisely and not a moment too soon, in Sam's opinion.

Hey, how the hell did he know what she'd been thinking anyway? Had anyone considered that Melling was the Goa'uld? She gazed at him, carefully removing the cucumbers from her eyes, and inwardly admitting that it felt rather nice.

Yes, he could be a Goa'uld...a mean, beauty obsessed Goa'uld...who could read minds and was attracted to Jack like all Goa'uld (and Tok'ra) were...it all made perfect sense! Especially considering the glare he was now sending her way! He knew she'd figured it out...

No, he'd realized she'd cracked her face mask in her concentration, and that she was eating the cucumber slices. Well, the man had been starving her! What else was she supposed to do?

She bedgrudgingly admitted that Melling was not the Goa'uld, and now, feeling the crack in the mask, could talk to her CO.

"Sorry Sir, I'm a little tied up at the moment." She called over the partition.

"Oh." Man, he wished she wouldn't say things like that.

"So, you free to talk? I had a question." He continued, hoping she hadn't noticed the brief pause in his thought processes. Samantha Carter could do that to a man.

"Sure." She replied, smiling and releasing to get rid of the stiff feeling in her cheeks.

"Samantha, don't do that!" Vic rolled his eyes at her.

"Vic, you think you could give us a minute? We've got some top secret military stuff to discuss. Classified, you understand." Jack said charmingly.

Sam watched, and for a minute, it seemed like Vic was going to agree (few people could deny Jack when he was that charming) but he shook his head.

"Sorry Colonel," His clipped British accent made him sound insincere. "Samantha's next specialist will be arriving at any minute and I must supervise, as always. They cannot do it without my instruction!" He bragged.

"Do I even want to know what this next Specialist treatment is?" Sam asked.

Melling raised a Teal'c-esque eyebrow, pausing. "No."

"Ri-ii-ght" O'Neill sighed, sounding uncomfortable, and Sam distinctly heard him pulling a chair over to the partition, and saw the outline of his shadow, watching him fiddle with something in his hands.

"Well Carter, the Go- the BAD GUY we're coming to sort out..." He said meaningfully, "Why do we assume he's going to be at this thing?...I mean it's not THAT TYPE OF PEOPLE'S usual MO."

"I know." She sighed, nodding her head to the bald guy with the rainbow t-shirt and star earring who entered and started talking to Vic. "Though I can see the attraction of prizes and glory, as well as a questionable amount of tacky jewellery would appeal to them, they're usually more for world domination than opening malls."

"Exactly. I'm pretty sure their acceptance speech would be more of the "I am your One True God" variety" Jack agreed. She saw his sillouette playing with a needle.

"Um, Sir, could you put that down?" Sam said, slightly nervous.

"Right, sorry." She saw him do so, and a few seconds later he took a yoyo out of his pocket. This, she found more comforting.

"So Carter, what are we assuming here? You must have a theory, involving long words that confuse and irritate me?"

"Good to know I'm appreciated Sir." She said dryly, wriggling as Rainbow-Bald-Man came over with wax strips...what more was there left to wax, for crying out loud? She wriggled as Rainbow-Bald -Man came closer.

"Come on Carter, I know you've got an ideas, multiple ones probably. Don't be a tease."

She heard the grin.

"Well, there's the idea that they try and win, and use the fame as a stepping stone, which is crazy, but likely, in that case..." Oh that was cold, Sam wriggled uncomfortably as the wax touched her skin.

"Carter, focus." Jack reminded her.

"In that case we just watch for any attempts at foul play, and try and get clues, we could always get a zay- a lie detector in from our friends." She said meaningfully.

"Or use your special sixth sense thingy" Jack added helpfully. "The other idea?"

"That they're not trying to win the pageant, they're using it to get contacts or possibly to make a scene, get attention. In this case we need to be on the lookout for technology, as well as explosives, although at the moment I'm disinclined to believe there's anything a Goa- could-what are you doing? Excuse me what the hell-"

"Carter?" Jack asked, almost panicked at her sudden silence. "Carter?" He stood up.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" She screamed. "Son of a bitch! Who the hell do you think you are Rainbow Man? Get the hell away from me! AWAY! NOW!"

The next thing Jack heard was Vic Melling's calming tones. "Samantha, we have to take the other strip off, dear, it can't stay there, okay? Ready?"

And once again there was a scream, although more of a yelp, instead of the painful banshee shriek. It still hurt him to think of her in pain.

"Okay, see how I'm a Colonel, and how I am IN CHARGE of this operation? Well, I want to know what the HELL is going on!" Jack demanded. "Carter, I'm coming in!"

"Sir, please don't-"

But he ignored her, and so finding his 2IC shuffling into a painful, but more acceptable position on the bed, and a scary bald dude smiling his gummy smile and walking away was not as terrible as it could have been.

He turned to glare at Melling.

"Bikini Wax" He shrugged. "You've got ten minutes free Samantha." He turned to walk away, but pivoted before he left. "Don't eat anything." He nodded menacingly, and walked away.

Jack stared after him viciously. "I will never call Fraiser a Napoleanic Power Monger after this. That title is reserved for freaks like him." He turned to Sam, slightly more gently. "When did you last eat?"

"Before we left...oh wait, I did just eat the cucumber slices on my eyes...does that count?" She sounded grumpy. Oh, he hated grumpy Sam, it was the Sam who appeared once a month and glared at him all the time...or the Sam when there was no Jello in the Mess, or when McKay turned up.

He shook his head and sighed, impersonating Melling. "You've got ten minutes free Samantha," He pulled out one of her chocolate bars from his pocket, slightly more crumpled, "Eat something."

Her eyes lit up.

Forget alternate realities. She loved Jack O'Neill.

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She's ashamed to think that those ten minutes made the whole day worth it. She'd been plucked, waxed and peeled to within an inch of her life. There was fake tan on her skin, and varnish on her fingernails (which she'd always taken good care of, she'd thought) and yet it was worth it just to hang around and joke with her CO over a couple of bars of chocolate...Okay, well she'd eaten most of them, but she'd offered.

All he'd done was smile his little smile, that one he did when he knew something she didn't, or when he bet on her, or when she was wearing an atrocious blue tent for a dress, and said simply.

"I'm not crazy enough to come between you and chocolate right now Carter."

Thank God. She was really only being polite.

And then when Melling had come back, Jack had snatched the remaining chocolate bar from her lips and stuck it in his own mouth, so she wouldn't get in trouble. In fact, Melling even took pity on Sam, obviously seeing the shocked look on her face, and informed Jack that he thought it was rude and mean of him to eat infront of her. Jack apologised, that little smile playing around his lips, only briefly, for her to see. She nodded her thanks.

And there they were again, her sitting having her hair done for what seemed like hours (and how much could they really do to her hair anyway? It wasn't like there was loads of it!) and he sat next to her, talking about the mission, but also about other nondescript, unimportant things. And that made it worth it too.

"Danny and T should be up soon, I'm thinking maybe tommorow? Ready for the Stake-out."

"Donuts?" She grinned.

"Of course." He raised his eyebrows, and then cleared his throat. "So Carter, tell me about this elusive Black-Ops career that you apparently have." His eyes were wide and innocent.

She wasn't falling for it.

"The General meant I was Black Ops TRAINED, I'd grown up with him and my father...they ensured I could kill someone by the time I was fifteen...although I think the target group at that time was teenage boys." She smiled. "I had some experience planning missions and General Hammond obviously felt he needed to validate why I was chosen for this mission."

"Yeah, so in the mission statement they substitute Black-Ops trained genius for Hot Blond. I can see why Hammond would try and justify it."

Sam coloured and averted her eyes. Damn she wished she wouldn't do that, it was a natural reflex. "Yes, Sir."

A few seconds passed in relative quiet, until sam felt a yank on her head again. She sighed.

"Sir, think you could do a little recon?" She asked pityfully.

"What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, what the hell is this woman doing to my head?" Sam paused, "No offence." She said to the woman, but as she suspected, no answer, once again. The hairdresser was obviously upset at the state of Sam's hair, and Sam couldn't blame her.

"It looks like she's...sewing...onto your head?"

"Extensions, darlings, extensions!" Vic trilled as he glided into the room like a gust of wind. "A pageant winner is a long haired beauty! And we lucked out that you're blond!"

"Yes, one of your few acheivements, Samantha." Jack said wryly.

She sighed. "So when does this wonderful little nightmare end? Almost done?" She yawned at Melling, thinking longingly of chocolate bars.

"Hardly."He snorted.

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say."

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_**AN: **Hey everyone, thanks for waiting patiently for this chapter, hope it wasn't a disappointment! Oh, and if anyone has something they'd like to be in this series, either from SG1, Miss Congeniality, or their own imaginations, feel free to let me know._

_As always, feedback is adored, but not demanded. _


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